


Family

by DinoDina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Family, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Marauders, mild child abuse (Sirius), sixth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: Circumstances force Sirius to fight for his family — his real family.





	Family

Sirius comes back from the summer before sixth year with shadows in his eyes and bruises on his forearms.

James hugs him extra-tight, because while Sirius isn't talking, James can  _tell_ , and makes sure to tell more jokes than usual during the ride to Hogwarts.

The spring's events long-forgotten, Remus now laughs, his sandy hair falling into his crinkling eyes, doubling over with mirth, putting and arm around Sirius to link the four of them together. His hand grasps Sirius's shirt, keeping him close even when the joke ends, and James catches his eye.

The shadows in Sirius's eyes give way to light, though a hard glint lurks below it, a determined spark of life.

"Our penultimate year, lads!" Sirius grins, throwing his arms around them all once more as Hogsmeade Station comes into view.

"This, and one more, and we're gone, fellows!" Remus answers quickly, jubilantly.

"Sixth year at last, friends!" Peter agrees, his voice light and bubbly.

The train stops. James looks around and meets their eyes in turn—Peter, excited; Remus, happy; Sirius, mad and determined and elated. He grins triumphantly. "Marauders… we're here."

They walk through the halls, which seem to come alive, welcoming, and Sirius seems to come alive, too. His chest puffs out, he begins to strut, and the stars in his eyes are brighter than ever.

* * *

"Double Transfiguration first," Peter says as he looks at their new schedules. "With Slytherin."

James and Sirius exchange a look. Remus grins at them, then looks away, while the two beam.

"Excellent," James says.

"I've been waiting to get my hands on them all summer," Sirius says gleefully.

They leave the Great Hall together. The conversation never ceases, their grins never waver, and their steps never falter. Sirius's grim remembrance of the summer—the shadows hidden with joy, the bruises healed with a spell—are gone now, and they intend to remain gone.

James opens the classroom door. Sirius pauses as he passes. Their eyes meet; Sirius is wild. "What could be better than this?"

* * *

"And then—and then he—" Sirius guffaws, breaking himself off. He gesticulates wildly with one hand, trying to continue, but that, too, falls, and he brings it to his face to stifle the laughter.

"I—I know!" James cries from the floor, where he's trying to catch his cat, which is halfway under Sirius's armchair. He beats his fists on the floor as he laughs, the search halted. "And then Snivellus—Oh, Merlin!"

"It—was—glorious!" Sirius yells between peals of laughter.

"And you don't even have detention!" Peter says from the couch. He's laughing, too, but quietly, because he sees the dirty looks some seventh years are giving James and Sirius for disrupting the evening.

"First prank of the year…" James stops laughing and looks dramatically into the fireplace, though a smile threatens to break out at the corners of his mouth. He leans over and claps a still-laughing Sirius on the shoulder. "Well done, mate."

* * *

"Merlin, I do  _not_  miss O.W.L. year," Sirius says, throwing his bag roughly onto his bed.

"O.W.L.s are hardly the worst," Remus points out as he changes out of his robes. He stops and faces Sirius, who's rifling through his trunk in search of a clean shirt. "We've still got N.E.W.T.s."

Sirius grimaces. "Disgusting."

"What, the exams?"

"My shirts."

"Well…" Remus leans over and peers into the trunk. "I mean—yes, yes, they are. Here"—he throws over a shirt—"borrow."

"Thanks." Sirius pulls it on. He looks at Remus for a minute, then at the door. "When are James and Pete getting back? It's almost dinnertime."

"They're not."

"What?"

"They're not getting back, we're meeting them in the Great Hall." Remus gets his wand out of his bag and sticks it into his back pocket. "Muggle Studies. Ends right before dinner."

"Right." Sirius grabs his own wand and follows Remus out of the room. "Why are they taking it again?"

"Because they want to know more about Muggle culture."

Sirius throws his hands up in annoyance. "All they have to do is ask us! You're a half-blood, and I'm—"

"Hardly an expert," Remus interrupts. "Besides, Lily's taking the class."

"She's a Muggleborn!"

"She wants to see them from a magical point of view. Says she's curious." Remus sighs. "I don't understand it, either."

Sirius shakes his head. "Say what you want about James, but he's completely stupid about her."

Still, he's grinning. Both of them are. The thought of James never fails to bring smiles to their faces—sometimes wild and mischievous, but always happy and fond.

* * *

Sirius rolls his eyes as Slughorn continues talking, pacing up and down in front of the class and throwing smiles to his favorite students. Sirius is not one of them, and therefore leans back in his chair and waits for the lecture to end.

"Boring, isn't it?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Of course it is, Pete… listen to him: 'Some of you are capable, and  _some of you_ …' Ugh. I caught your pointed look at me, you—"

" _Detention_ , Mr. Black."

Peter looks at him with wide eyes. "He's not taking any of your shit this year, is he?"

"Apparently not." Sirius shoots Slughorn a dirty look. "I don't think he ever got over me being in Gryffindor. He had my whole family—disgusting. Don't know how he stands them."

Peter's silent for a moment. Then he smiles hopefully. "Honorary first detention of the year, though. You win. Can't believe it's taken four weeks."

Sirius victoriously bumps his fist under the table.

* * *

Night's fallen earlier than usual, but Sirius still looks out onto the snow-covered grounds, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The sky is cloudy from the recent snowfall—there's going to be another by morning, Sirius can tell—so he can't see the moon or stars, just the vague shadows of the Forbidden Forest.

He sighs. "I can't believe it's already here."

"Huh?" James, Remus, and Peter say together, all looking at him from their beds.

"Winter." Sirius sighs. "Holidays are just around the corner. Just a bit over a week."

"Yeah," Remus says.

"Time flies when you're having fun," James says with a smile.

"That it does." Sirius turns his back on the window and walks to his own bed, to the thick blankets that will protect him against the castle's chill.

* * *

Professor McGonagall is showing something at the front of the class, but Remus is, for once, not focused on her words. He's focused on the irritating noise to the left of him—the irritating noise being James, who's been whispering for the past five minutes.

"Shut it," Remus whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

"But Remus—"

"She can hear you."

"This is important." James leans over the space between their desks. Remus rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath; if James is this insistent, there's got to be a reason. "Listen, have you noticed something off about Sirius today? Anything?"

Remus nods.

"He's quiet," James continues. "I think he's upset about something, and—"

Peter leans over next to James and nods. "He's right—"

"Detention, Potter, Pettigrew."

James bites his lip—it's the worst possible time to get caught—but grins nonetheless. "Right you are, Professor."

* * *

Sirius  _is_  much quieter than usual, hardly congratulating James on his detention after class and joking much less at dinner before sending him and Peter a gloomy goodbye as they head off to the detention.

"Just us, eh?" he says to Remus as they walk. His voice is cheerful, but his eyes lack their usual sparkle.

"Yeah." They cross a landing and approach the Fat Lady's portrait. " _Flobberworm_." They walk through the portrait and bypass the common room in favor of the stairs leading to the dormitory. "Listen. Are you… is everything alright?"

Sirius shrugs. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, alright." Remus pauses, opening the dormitory door for them to walk through, then closing it behind them with a snap. "I don't believe that for a second."

He crosses his arms. Sirius does the same, then the easygoing expression slides off his face and he looks devastated. "You're right."

"What is it?"

"Letter." Sirius takes it out from under his trunk and throws it at him. "Came just after lunch."

Remus turns it over. "From your parents?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

Sirius toes the ground with his foot. He looks like a disappointed and scolded schoolboy, then suddenly clenches his fists and kicks the leg of the bed. "They want me back for Christmas. And I—I can't—I can't not… they'd drag me back kicking and screaming, this—" He points at the letter. "This is an order. They want me back, for one reason or another, and I have to go."

Remus can't do anything but stare.

Later, he can't do anything but offer support, holding Sirius's hand as he tells James and Peter about the letter.

* * *

The week passes quickly, much like the rest of term had. To everyone else, it's a joy, but the four friends are somber. They don't know what the letter means, and are scared for Sirius—as much of a front as they put up of joy and excitement, they don't want to say goodbye when the Hogwarts Express stops.

Sirius grins as it does. The smile can easily pass for a real one. "Happy Christmas, lads."

* * *

He can't remember a time when Grimmauld Place has been cheerful for Christmas. He can't remember a time when it's been cheerful at all. Or bright. Or welcoming. He can't remember it ever feeling like a home.

The cranky House-Elf prowls the halls, glaring at Sirius and gazing with adoring eyes up at his mother. Regulus keeps to himself in his room—and good riddance! All Sirius wants to do is go back to Hogwarts. Or to James's parents' house, where he was supposed to spend the holidays.

His mother's not talked to him yet.

He feels suffocated.

* * *

Remus bites his thumbnail as he watches the owl fly out of his bedroom window. He's worried, and he knows James is, too—he's replying to James's letter about getting Sirius out. They know they can't, and they won't, but they so desperately want to.

* * *

It's Christmas Eve, and Sirius is busy putting up a poster of a Muggle Band—Permanent Sticking Charms can be tricky—when the door opens.

He turns sharply, and sees nothing.

"Mistress tells Kreacher to tell her son to come down to her and Kreacher does her bidding, oh, yes, he does, because Kreacher is loyal to his family unlike the young master, rude and disloyal as he is, consorting with half-bloods and blood traitors and all sorts of—"

"Get out," Sirius says sharply, finally looking down to where the top of Kreacher's head is. "Get out, you may hate me but you still have to follow my orders." He scowls as he passes the House-Elf. "And stay out."

The halls are dark and foreboding. At the bottom of the stairs, in a room just off the drawing room, he knows his mother is waiting.

* * *

All Sirius knows is the blood in his mouth and the snow on his back; the sharp poke of his wand in his back pocket and the thinness of his shirt; the uneven edges of his hair tickling his skin and the wet cold on the end of his nose.

He reaches his hand up to touch his scalp. His hair is singed from one of his mother's curses, but his skin doesn't show through. He starts to shiver. He has no hat. He buries his hands in his armpits and feels his chin wobble. Either he's crying, or his teeth are chattering.

It's so cold.

He wonders where his wand will go if he transforms.

* * *

James wakes up on Christmas morning to a pile of presents at the end of his bed and the sound of a scream coming from downstairs.

Wand in hand, he rushes down. The voice sounded like his mother, and he yells, "Mum!"

"Put that away, you'll poke someone's eye out," his dad says as James skids to a stop next to them at the door.

"Sorry, dear, your friend just gave me a fright," his mum says. She's kneeling next to a figure James recognizes as Sirius.

"Oh… oh, Merlin…" James hears his wand clatter to the ground. "You found him like this, Mum?"

"Just now, yes."

"We need to get him inside—Dad—"

"Of course."

He's already beside James, helping him with Sirius, James's mum walking along behind them, carrying James's wand and already thinking of the layout of his future room.

* * *

The sheets are soft and warm, the room bathed in a welcoming light that wouldn't hinder Sirius's sleep—but he's not asleep. He's looking around, taking in the room: the walls, the drawn curtains, and the figure sitting at the foot of his bed.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position. "James?"

"Sirius!"

The cat in James's lap leaps off into Sirius's lap, and James throws himself around Sirius's neck.

"Happy Christmas," he says softly.

Sirius chuckles. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

"So what happened?" James asks.

He expects Sirius to close off, but Sirius just starts talking, stroking the cat that's still in his lap. "They wanted to… to recruit me, I suppose. For Voldemort. He's got my brother, or very nearly has—my darling mother said so, said that Reg's the loyal son. The brave son. The only son they need, really."

"They… they—what? Kicked you out?"

"Disowned me." Sirius smiles grimly. "Offered me reconciliation first, but only if I renounced Gryffindor. And you. And… well, everything I think and believe. When I told them to fuck themselves, that I wasn't going to be a pawn in their games, they… took to extreme measures."

James's eyes fly to Sirius's uneven hair.

"Amongst other things." Sirius smiles again, and his eyes close in bliss. "I'm free of them, James. I'm finally free."

* * *

The cat's still in Sirius's lap when James comes inside. "Mum's making dinner soon. And I've owled Remus and Peter, they should be here soon."

Sirius laughs. "Brilliant."

* * *

"Happy Christmas," Remus says as he closes the door behind him. He's holding an unevenly wrapped present, and presents it as he nears the bed. Sirius has made it, and is now lounging, waiting to be called down to dinner.

"Happy Christmas!" Sirius sits up and grabs Remus, pulling him down for a hug.

Remus lets out a grunt as he falls, but laughs as they right themselves. "Happy holiday?"

"Tremendous." Sirius grins wider. "I got disowned."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Sirius's smile falters. "Why would you be? I hated them."

"They were your family—your brother… I know you worry about him." Remus shrugs. "You hated them, but… it's hard for you, right? It has to be."

"I'm fine."

"If I had a Knut for every time I heard that—"

"—you'd still be poor."

"Exactly." Remus pauses, searching for words. "You barely ever say you're fine, and that's… that's fine, but in this case… You may be happy—and I want you to be—but you can't say you're not shaken. That you haven't been affected."

"I am. I am." Sirius nods. "But not in the way you think. I'm not sad, or angry, or offended. I'm happy because I've finally gotten my freedom from them! From everything that family stands for: the hatred, the evil. They're not my family. My family is—it's you, and James, and Peter, and James's parents… not them. Never them."

"Family is what you make it."

Sirius nods. "And I can now be with mine."

Not quite sure how to continue the conversation, they sit in silence; it's a comfortable silence, but a silence nonetheless, one broken by the door crashing open.

"Peter's here!" James shouts, and the next thing they know, James and Peter are on the bed, and the Marauders are tangled, as they should be, in a wild hug.


End file.
